You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore
by Keelywolfe
Summary: A conversation between Clark and Lex about...well, nothing much, really. SLASH


Title: You Don't Bring Me Flowers Anymore  
By Keelywolfe (keelywolfe@aol.com)  
Author's webpage: http://www.ravenswing.com/~keelywolfe/  
Rating: PG  
  
Pairing: Clark/Lex  
  
Feedback: Yes, please.   
  
Summary: A conversation between Clark and Lex about...well, nothing much, really.   
  
Disclaimer:   
  
Smallville's the name of the show  
Clark and Lex are the guys, as you know.  
Owned by WB  
Or maybe DC  
But not by me, so please don't sue.  
Hey, I'm a fanfic writer, not a poet.)  
  
  
  
**  
  
  
"You know, I don't think I ever really pictured this place as having a   
kitchen."  
  
A look. "You've eaten here before."  
  
Shrug. "I guess I figured that the food just miraculously appeared,   
already cooked and seasoned to perfection."  
  
Soft laughter. "What have I told you about watching Star Trek?"  
  
Silence. A fork clinking gently against the side of a glass bowl.  
  
Thoughtfully. "I didn't know you could cook."  
  
"Yes. Lex can cook." Dryly. "I can also waltz, use Windows ME, and play   
a mean game of Parcheesi. I do have a normal streak in here somewhere,   
Clark."  
  
"Kind of like California has the San Andres Fault."  
  
"For the sake of our friendship, I'm going to ignore that."  
  
"Like I'm ignoring your apron?"  
  
Pause. A glance to the side. "Are you laughing at my apron?"  
  
"No, no, it's just not quite your usual style."  
  
A look down. "What's wrong with it?"  
  
"Aside from the fact that it looks as if you picked it off a tree in   
Hawaii?"  
  
"So you are laughing at me. You know, I was going to feed you but now..."  
  
Hands held up defensively. "No, no, I'm not laughing, I swear! See how   
I'm not laughing?"  
  
"Yeah, but I think you want to. I can see it in your eyes, like you're   
imagining putting up flyers all over town. I'll have you know that if   
you ever tell anyone about this and people start to whisper that I'm   
cross-dressing, I will never forgive you."  
  
"I would never tell anyone on you, Lex." A thoughtful pause. The sizzle   
of liquid in a hot pan.  
  
"I don't think you understand the pressure I am under to be cool at all   
times. Take this scenario for example: Let's say your walking down the   
sidewalk and you trip on a crack in it, fall down and break your nose."  
  
"Are all your scenarios going to be so violent?"  
  
A look. "Work with me, Clark. Now, people would be concerned about you.   
They might even send flowers to you, boxes of candy..."  
  
"Now you're trying to entice me to break my nose?"  
  
"All right, all right. So, let's say the same thing happens to me. The   
next day, the headlines would read 'Lex Luthor Damages Smallville   
Sidewalk!' Plus, no flowers."  
  
"What's your obsession with flowered things today?"  
  
Pause. "Clark, did any of the point I was trying to make end up over on   
that side of the room?  
  
"Yeah, yeah. I get it. So don't trip."  
  
Annoyed silence. Soft scrape of a plastic spatula against metal. "Hmph,   
you're probably just being pissy because I didn't wear the one that   
says 'Kiss the Cook'."  
  
Silence. "You have an apron that says that?"  
  
"Yeah." Sly glance. "Want to see it?"  
  
"Is this where you ask if I want to see your etchings?"  
  
"I think you've already seen every etch I have. Up close, with detail."  
  
"Maybe I should check them out again, you know, make sure I didn't miss   
anything?" The slide of hands on silk. A sudden, indrawn breath.  
  
A step away. "Clark, I understand you're still at the point of being   
one giant walking hormone, but I'd really like to eat before we get   
into doing any nasty sex things. Otherwise, I may not get to eat until   
Letterman is on, and eating while watching him is bad for my   
digestion."  
  
Muttered. "You know, if anyone had ever told me I'd have to beg you for   
sex..."  
  
"Yeah, yeah." Agreeably. "Just keep whining and we'll see how much I   
make you beg."  
  
"Promises, promises."  
  
"Hey, think of the positive. At least it's in style for you to wear   
loose pants."  
  
"Yeah, and you did say we'd get to do nasty sex things." Brightening.   
  
Quick grin. "Clark, you can't even begin to imagine all the nasty   
things I want to do to you." The flicker of a tongue, wetting lips.   
"Believe me, you only think you know what freaky sex is. The rest of   
your life you're going to have nightmares about what I'm going to do to   
you tonight, I promise you."  
  
Silence.  
  
"Lex?"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Cook faster."  
  
-finis- 


End file.
